


You Were Made For Me

by Ladytalon



Category: Stargate: SG-1
Genre: Dark, Disturbing Themes, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-09
Updated: 2010-06-09
Packaged: 2017-10-10 00:50:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/93431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladytalon/pseuds/Ladytalon





	You Were Made For Me

  


Sam Carter has a mean streak a mile wide. Most people never see it because she takes pains to cover it with a smile that makes them think that she's the nicest person in the world, but it makes a cameo whenever she's been hurt and she lashes out in blind retaliation. She's tried her best to rein it in, to keep it from irreparably harming anyone, no matter how angry or hurt they've made her.

She can't imagine what they'd think if they knew about _this_.

Crouched on the floor in front of her is Baal. One of them, anyway. Despite being virtual carbon copies of each other, each of them is different in ways both slight and not so subtle. This particular one seems to have been made just for the part of Sam that longs to pull the trigger whenever she draws a bead on someone on a recon mission.

He's her very own whipping boy in every way, shape, and form. He comes to her to be made to feel like nothing, and the darkness inside her revels at the blank check that's handed to her every single time he bows his head and removes his clothes.

Sometimes she makes him crouch there – not kneeling, because that would be too comfortable a position – for hours while she either insults him or ignores him altogether. Finding new ways to demean someone who most likely still thinks of himself as a god is a challenge she enjoys, and sometimes she'll make him masturbate in front of her and then lick up his semen just for the perverse value of the entertainment. Other times, her blackest, most twisted impulses will take over and she'll torture him in creative ways to punish him for his creator's sins before beating him into unconsciousness.

The fact that Baal becomes aroused when Sam hurts him only makes it easier for her to torment him. She walks around him now, watching how his back arches in anticipation, shoulders flexing. "Up on your toes," she orders, catching him by the short hairs of his neck and pulling.

Baal obediently lifts himself up, placing his hands on the back of his neck as soon as she releases him. Even though he knows he's not allowed to speak and has never broken this rule, Sam shoves a wadded-up rag in his mouth and winds a strip of fabric around to hold it in place, knotting it behind his head. She's had a bad day, and wants no distractions.

As soon as she starts, the voice in the back of her head laughs and eggs her on until her arm is rising and falling continuously. Baal takes it, and the fact that she can't hear him making any noise at all – usually she can hear his ragged breathing and suppressed grunts of pain - draws her rage and she starts hitting him harder and harder until she's screaming at the top of her lungs as she beats him.

She's never had to worry about being careful before, because Goa'uld have the ability to mend any damage she can inflict, but as she lifts the flogger for another blow the red haze in front of her eyes clears enough for her to comprehend that, this time, she might have gone too far.

Baal is hunched on the floor, sobbing and crying around the gag and the flogger slips from her suddenly nerveless fingers as she realizes that his symbiote has retreated to repair the injuries and she's been beating the host. "Oh, my God." Sam kneels in front of him and fumbles to untie the gag, feeling like she's going to be sick. "I never thought, I just never _thought_… oh, Jesus."

He looks up at her through wet eyes, still crying, and she's appalled at how quickly her anger segues into tenderness. The dark, vicious part of her is utterly silent as she scatters kisses over his face in apology, licking up his tears and tasting the salt on her tongue.

Sam pulls him into her arms and he clings to her as she strokes his hair and murmurs nonsense. Her other hand moves on his body carefully, feeling the welts and cuts that are beginning to close as the symbiote does its work, and a strange impulse guides her fingers between his legs. Sam wonders at her own perversity as she strokes him to stiffness, pulling at his length gently until he presses his face into her neck, shuddering as he comes in her hand.


End file.
